Baron Blood
A resurrected torturer stalks his own castle. Bava on more commercial autopilot, still gorgeous.
519 entries. Curated, not exhaustive. A short shelf of things worth knowing about beats a long one nobody can navigate.
A resurrected torturer stalks his own castle. Bava on more commercial autopilot, still gorgeous.
The French corner of the spaghetti cycle: gaunt, ritualistic, and dedicated to Leone.
Bava's most personal film, and his strangest. Telly Savalas as the devil, holding a lollipop.
A muscleman drops into a full gothic hell. Peplum crossbred with a haunted-castle picture, and it looks it.
Di Leo's most cynical crime film. A mob enforcer navigates a Mafia war where everyone is corrupt.
Lee Van Cleef, one three-way showdown, and the Bacalov theme you know from Kill Bill.
Mario Adorf on foot versus a car. Best chase in Italian cinema.
Late Italian entry. Laura Gemser, and a body count instead of a plot.
Franco doing the formula early, with Mercedes McCambridge as the warden.
Alien via Rome, with exploding chests and a Goblin score doing heavy lifting.
Far angrier and more political than the packaging suggests.
Maciste renamed again, fighting a shapeshifter. Cheerfully incoherent.
Jacopetti and Prosperi's slavery reconstruction, and the most indefensible thing the mondo pair ever shot.
Bruno Mattei rips off Dawn of the Dead with a Goblin score he also stole. Gloriously shameless.
A ghost child with a white ball. Fellini and Scorsese both stole from it.
Di Leo's saddest. Oliver Reed, and a Morricone theme that hurts.
Narrated by a paralysed man presumed dead. Unusual and very good.
Martino at his most efficient. Nobody wastes a frame.
The most extreme of the sadiconazista cycle, and the only one shaped like a love story.
Barbara Steele married to a necrophile surgeon, and Freda smuggling it past the 1962 censors on innuendo alone.
Deodato points Last House at a dinner party. Grubby, mean, effective.
Barbara Steele in a haunted house on a bet. Better than it sounds.
Fulci does a bleak, hallucinatory western. Four outcasts cross a hostile frontier. Most do not make it.
A bridal-couture killer who narrates his own psychosis, and the best ghost gag Bava ever staged.
Anita Ekberg, morphine, and a plot that gives up around the hour mark.
They cast Sean Connery's actual brother. That is the entire idea.
The killer paralyses you first so you feel it. A first-rank giallo nobody name-checks.
A family curse, a killer in a red cloak, and a legend that kills every hundred years.
Best title in the genre. Poe adaptation with Edwige Fenech and a black cat.
Nothing to do with Django, and one of the strangest and cruelest westerns Italy ever shot.
More of the same, with flamethrowers and property developers as villains.
Deodato's first pass. Slower, meaner, less interesting than what followed.
The eurospy archetype, from a French agent who beat James Bond into print by four years.
Castellari's Mad Max, with perspex cars and George Eastman. Sold in the US as Warriors of the Wasteland.
The Martino/Fenech formula, arriving fully formed. Cut and retitled Blade of the Ripper in the US.
Starts as caveman fantasy, becomes science fiction with no warning.